No Longer Shy
by Genevievey
Summary: My Fair Lady A sequel to my fanfic "Shy", this continues the life of Eliza Doolittle her new fiance Professor 'enry 'iggins.
1. Opening Up

_DISCLAIMER: As everyone knows, I do not own MFL, the characters, the lyrics or any such thing._

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: I was overwhelmed with positive responses from "Shy", so I decided to continue. I'm not sure exactly how far I will continue, partly because I'm very busy and partly because I don't want to take it too far and ruin it. But I thought I'd share this with you anyway. There may be more to come..._

**Shy II – My Fair Lady continued**

Eliza lay on her bed, her elegant gown spread about her, grinning like an idiot at the ceiling. Her chest and bare shoulders rose and fell; she was breathless with excitement, and from running.

As well as the joy bubbling up inside her, there were overwhelming butterflies nearly bursting for her stomach. Although that momentary kiss had been releasing and well worth it, now Eliza knew that any moment Henry would be entering the house and they would have to discuss things and express their feelings…That would be interesting, and no doubt rather embarrassing. She wasn't sure whether she was more ecstatic or terrified.

He proposed…Henry Higgins, pompous, overbearing Henry Higgins risked making a fool of himself for a chance at having her…

She closed her eyes as a content smile spread over her face. All the tears, the torment, anger and verbal sparring was now so utterly worth it with the knowledge that Henry wanted her. He had been miserable without her and now he wanted to marry her. Mrs Eliza Higgins. She giggled at how odd it sounded.

How funny it seemed; this was nothing like the romantic proposal she'd dreamed of from her poverty-stricken childhood. It wasn't _conventionally_ romantic at all. But this was better than anything she'd ever dreamed of.

It was odd; the proposal came before the first kiss, before any real admission of affection. But Eliza decided now she'd always known how she felt about the tutor who had instilled such change in her, and in retrospect she became aware of the subtle hints there had been that he felt the same way.

The butterflies in her stomach became still more violent as she imagined what lay ahead for herself and the Professor. Spending time as a couple, a wedding, the wedding night…She blushed.

Then her stomach fell as a thought occurred to her. He wouldn't change his mind, would he? After all, he had been a confirmed bachelor. And she had been so excited she had hardly noticed his reaction to her kiss. Had she read too much into it? Perhaps he meant a legal marriage rather than an emotional one. But the way he had called out after her, stating the address in case she had forgotten, was reassuring. There had been warmth in his voice.

Eliza nearly jumped a foot as she was wrenched out of her thoughts by a rap on the door. It was a moment before anyone spoke.  
"Uh, Eliza, I'd appreciate your company in the study, when you have time."  
Henry's voice didn't sound quite as…quite as demanding as usual. It was almost a request. She thought she heard him clear his throat awkwardly. Eliza sat up on the bed, her head spinning from the sudden change of posture, her hands held tight to her stomach in case she burst from nerves.  
"I'll be down in a moment, Henry," she said, trying to keep her voice under control.  
"Right."

Henry Higgins turned on his heel and hurried down across the landing to the stairs, wanting to reach the security of his study before Eliza came out of her room. He would appreciate a moment to collect his thoughts. He refused to acknowledge that his hand shook slightly as he opened the study door. It was rather demeaning that a woman should have such an effect on him. He had felt a sort of tingle just now, when she called him Henry, the two syllables holding more meaning than a hundred sentences.

He paced the room, hands clasped firmly behind his back.  
_Right, so when she comes in…Should I get straight to the point of a formal proposal, or let her speak first, perhaps? Maybe I should say something romantic…God, no, I hardly know what romance is! Damn. If she were a man I would be at perfect ease in her company…but if she were a man I'd never feel so…_

The door clicked open and Higgins froze in mid-pace, looking up with what could almost be read as fear in his eyes. This changed when his eyes fell on Eliza, who was glowing the way a woman in love is inclined to, and he felt the wind knocked out of him. She smiled shyly at his expression, and he was forced into action, gesturing for her to take a seat on the divan.

"Uh, take a seat. I thought we could discuss…uh, matters," he strayed to the drink cart and poured himself a glass of port.  
"I hope I didn't embarrass you earlier," said Eliza, fiddling with her hands.  
"No, no you didn't…Port?" Henry held up a glass, but she shook her head, smiling. He seemed slightly flustered at the mention of their kiss, and it both worried and amused her.

Henry stood in the middle of the room, his feet unsteady as though he wasn't sure where he wanted to walk to. Eventually he decided to sit on the divan next to her. She moved over and turned to face him.  
"Eliza, I gather you now understand the way I feel about you."  
She nodded, hoping her understanding was correct.  
"And it would please me greatly if you would be my wife. I, uh, I take it from your response earlier that you accept? I mean, _do_ you accept?"  
Eliza smiled, feeling a rush of relief soothe her previous doubts. "Yes, I do."  
"Good," said Henry simply, nodding as though the matter was settled. Then he laughed at how he sounded. "Uh, do you have anything you'd like to say, or ask me?"  
"I don't think so. I don't really know what to say. Except that I'm glad."  
Higgins smiled, an open smile that she couldn't recall seeing before. "So am I. I also believe I owe you an apology. In the past, I've-"  
"Oh my, this is an historic moment! Henry Higgins _apologising_!" Eliza teased.  
"Very funny. In all seriousness, I want to apologise for the way I've treated you in the past," Henry spoke slowly and looked uncomfortable. This was hardly surprising as this may possibly have been the first genuine apology the man ever made.  
"During the tuition process I was, at times, very harsh on you. Although considering the change it caused in you, I'm inclined to think it was worth it," he smiled at her, "I still believe I put a little too much strain on you. I'm sorry."  
Eliza nodded, surprised and moved by his words. This was the last thing she had expected of him. "Apology accepted. And considering all of the positive things that have come of it, I also believe it was worth it."

Henry smiled for a moment, but still looked awkward.  
"What is it?"  
"Nothing," he shook his head, standing up.  
Eliza put her hands on her hips. "Henry Higgins, you may be excellent at coaxing but you are hopeless at lying. If we are to be married you must be able to talk to me." She fixed him with a challenging but warm gaze, under which he relaxed his shoulders and sighed.  
"Eliza, I…"  
"Yes?"  
"You are young, and I am…not. You are a beautiful young woman with all of your life ahead of you; I am a middle-aged ex-bachelor. Although I do feel very strongly for you, I am…I'm unaccustomed to romance. A young woman like you will long for a more amorous lover, and I doubt whether I will be able to provide you with that. I intend to try, but…"  
He had been speaking fast, looking at the floor, and when he looked up and met Eliza's warm gaze he stopped speaking. She stood up and crossed the room to where he stood, her eyes filled with warmth.  
"Henry, how you could possibly imagine yourself to be inadequate I do not know. Heaven knows you never worried about that before. For me, you are perfectly adequate, and I have limited experience of romance myself, so it will be a learning curve for both of us."  
"Thank for saying that, Eliza, but…I find it difficult to express everything I feel for you-"

He was cut off in mid-sentence when Eliza reached up and kissed him on the mouth. For a moment he was stunned, then closed his eyes as she put her hand to his cheek. Eliza smiled as she felt him slowly, cautiously wrap his arm around her waist, pulling her a little closer. Then she pulled back to smile into his eyes. They chuckled at her solution to his dilemma, and the atmosphere was much more relaxed.

"I shall have to buy you a ring," said Henry, his hand in hers as they went back to the divan. "There's no need," smiled Eliza, taking the little pearl ring from her other hand and giving it to him. "The ring you gave me the first time we went to Brighton."  
"The ring you threw at my head the night of the Embassy Ball," Henry added teasingly, turning it over in his hands.  
"Well, are you going to put it on me?"  
Henry grinned, closing his hand on the ring and putting it behind his back.  
"A lady exercises patience."  
"I may be a lady," she smiled, "but first and foremost I am Eliza Doolittle."  
"Soon to be Eliza Higgins," Henry added, slipping the ring onto her finger, then holding her hand a second before letting it go.

"Well, it is late, and as a gentleman I would never dream of enjoying your company without a chaperone present," said Higgins, not at all sure that he wouldn't dream of just that as soon as his head hit the pillow, "so I bid you goodnight, Eliza."

They stood up, neither able to contain a smile, the Professor guiding his fiancé through the door with a gentle hand on the small of her back. At the foot of the stairs she turned to him.  
"Would not a gentleman escort his lady to her door?"  
"Why yes, I believe he would."  
At Eliza's door, they shared another nervous smile.  
"Well, goodnight," she murmured, stepping in to kiss his cheek, then closed her door. Henry stood, astounded at the warmth she had left on his cheek, not to mention the events of the evening.

"Goodnight, my fair lady…"


	2. Oh, What A Loverly Morning

**Chapter 2**

Henry Higgins yawned, and lifted his head from his pillow. Funny, his alarm hadn't gone off yet. He couldn't remember the last time he'd woken before his alarm. Then he realised why he had woken early; last night had not been an ordinary night.  
_Eliza…_

Henry had never been a morning person, but this morning it was no effort to swing his legs out of bed and reach for his robe. He was tempted to hum, but managed to restrain himself. It wouldn't do to soften up too much.

Shortly later he emerged from his room, gazing across the landing to Eliza's door. It was still closed. She usually woke before him…perhaps she was dressing. Shaking his head to clear away some thoughts he'd never admit to, Henry strolled down the stairs and into his study with an unprecedented spring in his step.

Mrs. Pearce had left breakfast on the table, but he'd wait and share it with Eliza. Perhaps he could read, to fill in some time. But he found he could not sit still, so he took to pacing the room. After a minute or so, the door creaked open and his head snapped up hopefully.

"Good morning, old chap. How was the opera?"  
Henry's shoulders sagged a little in disappointment, but he managed a smile at his friend Pickering. "The opera was…wonderful. Marvellous, actually," he smiled to himself. Pickering smiled also, but Henry failed to notice what a knowing smile it was.  
"A shame I missed it. But I really wasn't up to it."  
"Oh, yes," Henry remembered suddenly, guilty that he should have enquired about his friend's health already. He had been distracted. "I hope you're feeling better?"  
"Yes, a good sleep did me wonders. And you too, apparently."  
"Oh, uh, yes, yes."

The door opened again, and this time Henry was not disappointed. Eliza offered Pickering a cheerful smile, one that deepened when it landed on the Professor, filling him with warmth. Somehow she looked more beautiful this morning than ever before; perhaps she had spent longer straightening up her hair…no, she just glowed somehow.  
"Good morning, Eliza," smiled Pickering. "I take it you also enjoyed last night?"  
Her eyes sparkled as she glanced at Henry. "Yes, very much so."  
"Well then, let's all share a delicious breakfast. Ooh, eggs and bacon!"  
Pickering rubbed his hands together eagerly and his two companions shared an amused smile, Henry pulling up a chair for the lady. She brushed against his arm slightly as she sat down.  
"Did going to the opera turn you into a gentleman at last, Higgins?" enquired the Colonel jovially around a mouthful of toast.  
"That must be it," his friend smiled awkwardly.

The three friends began their breakfasts; Eliza reached for the pepper at the same time as Higgins, causing him to jump and her to giggle. He handed the shaker to her, their fingertips brushing for a moment, and she smiled into her eggs. The tension was palpable.  
Henry didn't want to break the news to Pickering without his fiancé's permission, but at this rate they wouldn't even need to verbalise it. Catching her eye, he mouthed across the table, _Shall I tell him?_ just at the moment Pickering looked up, and in an attempt to cover Henry faked a sneeze.  
"A little too much pepper, I think."  
This was too much for Eliza, who choked a little on her bacon. Henry rolled his eyes and placed his knife and fork down on the table.  
"Pickering, I've—we've—got something to tell you…"  
"Oh really?" Pickering's expression was one of complete innocence.  
"Yes, uh, well…we're engaged. To be married."  
The couple shared a tremulous smile, then turned to their friend, nervously awaiting his reaction. Pickering attempted a gape.  
"Engaged? Well, that _is_ a surprise! When did this happen?"  
Eliza raised an eyebrow, glancing across at Henry.  
"He's not surprised. You're not surprised."  
"What do you mean? Of course I'm surprised! I mean, this is so utterly out of the blue, Higgins being a confirmed bachelor and there being no previous evidence of you two being romantically involved and whatnot. I'm very surprised."  
It was Higgins' turn to raise an eyebrow, and finally Pickering gave in.  
"Oh alright, I had my suspicions. In fact, I hoped that it might all come out yesterday evening."  
Eliza dropped her fork as realisation dawned. "…You weren't ill last night at all! You weren't even tired! You were setting us up!"  
"Well, uh, techinally…yes…" the Colonel muttered guiltily.  
Slowly, Henry began to chuckle, then laugh outright. "You old devil! How _dare_ you meddle in my private affairs! Well, I suppose all I can really say is…thank you, old chap."

Henry stood up abruptly, turning towards the door.  
"Mrs. Pearce!" he called, not his usual brash shout but a carefree holler, "Mrs. Pearce, if you wouldn't mind, please pack us a basket with sandwiches and cake and anything else we have. We shall be having a picnic lunch."  
Eliza and the Colonel shared an expression of disbelief.  
"Henry, are you _feeling_ quite alright?"  
"I've never felt better. You do _want_ to go on a picnic, don't you?"  
"Well, yes, but—"  
"Excellent. Will you join us, Pickering?"  
The Colonel stammered, "Well, if I wouldn't be intruding I suppose I could act as chaperone…"  
"Jolly good. I'll go check on Mrs. Pearce."  
Higgins strolled out of the room, whistling, leaving his two friends in a state of amused bewilderment.

"Eliza…is that the man you're engaged to?"  
"I'm not quite sure…but I look forward to finding out."


	3. A Picnic in the Park

**Chapter 3**

The morning sun was streaming down through Hyde Park's greenery onto two gentlemen and a lady with a picnic basket.  
"You know Higgins, it really is a lovely day, this _was_ a good idea of yours."  
"Naturally," the younger man grinned, and the lady on his arm shook her head in amusement. They came to a halt.  
"I think this little spot will do nicely, I think," nodded Henry decisively, taking the quilt from Eliza's basket and spreading on the ground. Soon they were all seated comfortably, and the young woman unpacked lunches for her companions.

"You know, Mrs. Pearce's carrot cake just gets better and better."  
"Actually," Eliza corrected the Colonel with a smile, "I baked that one. With her help, of course."  
Both men raised their eyebrows. "A woman of many talents," announced Pickering, with an approving smile to Higgins, who grinned. That woman just kept surprising him.

His grin faded to a misty smile as his gaze wandered across the park. A young couple were strolling by the pond, arm in arm and obviously very much in love. Henry sighed. He and Eliza didn't look like that, he knew. From a distance they would just look like three platonic friends on a picnic. And he would always look older than her. How odd; after decades of complete self-assurance, in the last few days he had suddenly experienced the desperate urge to impress someone other than oneself, and the feeling of utter inadequacy.

"Don't you think, Henry?"  
"What?"  
Eliza was smiling at him amusedly. "I was just saying that we should all take a stroll by the pond, since you were staring at it so."  
"Oh, right. If you want to."

He was so distracted by his own thoughts that he forgot to offer Eliza his arm; instead she entwined her arm with his, making a joke if it, but fixing him with a gentle questioning smile. She could tell there was something on his mind. But he just smiled back as cheerfully as he could, and pointed out some boys playing cricket.  
_What the devil is the matter with me? It's a splendid day, I have the most beautiful elegant woman in the world on my arm, and a good friend beside me; I have no right to be out of sorts! Utterly ridiculous!_

They strolled on for a while, until Colonel Pickering halted, saying, "I say, these old bones are getting rather tired. I shall leave you two to it and go back and guard the picnic basket. Don't hurry; I shall probably be dozing anyway."

The fiancés nodded and waved, Eliza standing closer to Henry as they walked on.  
"The very idea of the dear old Colonel guarding anything is rather amusing," she chuckled, but frowned when her companion's effort to appear amused failed to convince her.  
"Henry Higgins," she stamped her foot, "What _is_ the matter?"  
"The matter? Nothing, nothing is the matter. What made you think that?"  
"You are quite clearly out of sorts. Have I done something wrong?"  
"No, not at all! Perhaps I'm tired."

The woman was not convinced. Taking his hand, she pulled him off the path to a small seat tucked away in the corner by a fountain. Henry sat down next to her, looking uncomfortable.  
"Are you still thinking you're not enough for me?"  
The man attempted indignation. "Where on earth did you get that from? I'm perfectly at ease with myself, I…" His shoulders sagged, and he refused to meet her eyes.  
"Henry, you are the only man I would even consider marrying. Until you started sulking—"  
"I am not sulking!"  
"—I was having a perfectly marvellous day, strolling about on your arm for everyone to see. You probably don't understand, but women like to be seen with their men, it's a matter of showing off how fine a man cares for you, really. Anyway, having a fiancé is bound to take some getting used to after so many years of being a bachelor, but I'm sure you'll find it's not so bad really."

Henry was about to say that she shouldn't be so smug and assume that she knew how his mind worked, but…well, she seemed to. And he was still caught up on what she had just said, about strolling around on his arm. She was proud to be seen with him? A warmth was pooling in his stomach. Heaven knew he was more proud to be seen with her than he'd admit to anyone. And she was smiling at him, amusement and affection shining out of those lovely eyes. The last shreds of indignation disappeared.

"Well, uh, thank you, Eliza. Whether or not I make it obvious, I do enjoy having a fiancé very much, having _you_ as a fiancé, and I promise to be disgustingly cheerful for the rest of the day."  
He placed his hand playfully over his heart to swear that oath, and Eliza rolled her eyes laughingly, pulling his hand away. He was grinning now, and pulled her hat down over her eyes in return. The young woman gasped indignantly and slapped him on the shoulder. Laughing at her blind attempts to fix her hat, Henry took the hand that had slapped him and raised it to his lips.

A tender smile curved Eliza's mouth and she removed her heat, leaning closer, obviously with the intention of receiving another kiss. Henry found himself much less nervous than willing to give one, and their lips were only inches apart when they both gave a start. The young couple from the pond obviously favoured this seat too, having rounded the corner, but found it occupied. Both women blushed, and the young man averted his eyes in embarrassment. "Excuse us." He pulled his lady friend away, then Eliza and Henry burst into laughter. The Professor got to his feet, and gave his fiancé a hand up, before taking her arm. Still chuckling to himself, he glanced across at Eliza, whose cheeks were still flushed and eyes sparkling, and Henry grinned out across the sunny park.  
_Yes, we look like a couple._


	4. A Stranger's Kindness

**Chapter 4**

"Well," beamed Colonel Pickering, "that _was_ a pleasant outing."  
"Indeed," smiled Higgins, with a glint in his eye that caused Eliza to slap him lightly on the hand. The Colonel graciously pretended not to notice.  
The three friends strolled homeward along the edge of the park, enjoying the orange glow of setting sun on each house and tree and lamppost.

"Buy a flower, Miss?"  
Eliza looked down to find a small, grubby-faced little girl sitting against the park wall, a small basket of flowers cradled under one thin arm. Her eyes were a deep brown, and hopeful. Tangled brown hair, freckles, a fraying skirt. She didn't look so very different than the now-elegant Miss Doolittle must have, about ten years ago. Eliza stopped, pulling Higgins to a halt by their linked arms, to his surprise. She smiled down at the little girl.

"Yes, I think I will. There's so many lovely ones to choose from," she beamed conversationally, "but violets have always been my favourite."  
The girl's face seemed brighter now; not merely hopeful, but pleased. "They's my favrit too."  
"How much?"  
"Whatever you please, Miss. Tuppence is me regular price."

Now Eliza turned expectantly to the man beside her. It took Henry a moment to understand, then he muttered, "oh" and reached into his pocket, retrieving a handful of coins and handing them to his fiancé hurriedly. He didn't really mind humouring Eliza in this way, but personally he would much rather head home immediately. What was the use of a flower, anyway? Henry supposed she just pitied the girl, because of their shared experiences.

"Aoww Miss, that's more than tuppence!"  
The girl stared with awe at the money in her hand. She had probably never seen so many coins at once before. Eliza smiled.  
"Indeed it is. Now, you see if that won't but you a nice hot bun for dinner, from that bakery across the way."  
"Aow, I couldn't go in there, Miss. They'd think I'd stolen the money."  
Eliza nodded, remembering herself in a similar position. "Well then, I'll go in and buy one for you."

Henry raised his eyebrows. It was all very well wanting to be nice to the girl, but this was going a little too far. He sighed; women and their weakness for 'cute' children.

"Aow _Miss_, I wouldn't ask you to do that. All I'm giving you is a little vi'let."  
"Oh, but I want to," insisted Eliza as the flower girl scrambled to her feet.  
"What's your name?"  
"Mandy, Miss."  
"My name is Miss Doolittle. This is my friend Colonel Pickering and my…fiancé Professor Henry Higgins."

While little Mandy gaped at the titles of 'Colonel' and 'Professor', Higgins' forehead creased into a slight frown. Between the slight chill and the strange (though not entirely unpleasant) feeling he'd experienced when Eliza introduced him as her fiancé (to a seven year old flower girl, for Heaven's sake!), Henry was beginning to feel distinctly uncomfortable.

"I'll be back in just a moment, Henry," Eliza informed him, before strolling off across the street with the young flower girl in tow.  
The two men shared a glance.  
"Why can't a woman…?"  
"Oh hush, Higgins."

But soon enough the two young ladies emerged from the bakery, the smaller one bearing a sugar-glazed currant bun and an enormous smile. They watched as Eliza bid Mandy a warm farewell, then crossed the street to join them looking very pleased with herself.  
"Well, shall we head home, gentlemen?"  
"Yes, let's," nodded Pickering quickly, before Higgins could mutter some retort. He had noticed the affection between them after their un-chaperoned stroll, and would do his best to keep it that peaceful way.

They were nearing Wimpole Street, quickening their pace as the last rays of sunlight faded, leaving the streets dark and cold. They were just crossing the street, Henry pulling his fiancé up alongside him as they dodged the traffic, when there was a clatter of wheels, a horse's frightened whinny, and a cry.  
They jumped in surprise, spinning around. On the corner, the horse pulling a taxi carriage had obviously spooked, and the driver was desperately trying to calm it. A moment later the taxi drove on, and Higgins and Pickering began to turn away, but Eliza stopped them.

"Wait! Look, there's…there's someone lying on the curb."  
Before Henry could stop her, the woman ran down the street, gasping when she recognized the small figure slumped on the pavement. Mandy the flower girl (with crumbs from the currant bun still lining her lips) had fainted and hit her head on a cobblestone.  
"Henry! Pickering! Come over here! Hurry!"  
Eliza was gazing down concernedly at the little girl.  
"Oh," tutted Pickering, "the poor girl must have been as spooked by the horse as it was by her."  
"And that heartless man didn't even stop to see if she was alright," Eliza glared vehemently after the retreating taxi.  
"What's a flower girl doing in this part of town anyway?"  
Pickering cringed at his friend's thoughtless remark, waiting for the eruption. The woman merely scowled, turning her attention back to Mandy.  
"The poor dear…We can't just leave her here. She'll catch cold, or worse. We'll take her inside; Henry, would you carry her?"  
Professor Henry Higgins gaped incredulously. "Will I _what_?"  
"She needs our help, Henry."  
"She's none of our business!"  
"But I was yours? Oh, so you'll only pick up guttersnipes of marriageable age, is that it?"  
Eliza instantly regretted the harshness of that comment, but rather than show her apology she turned away and knelt to the pavement.

"I'll carry her," she nodded resolutely, scooping the girl up into her arms. Mandy was far too light for a girl of her age. Without meeting her fiancé's eyes, Eliza turned to walk toward 27A Wimpole Street. Torn for a moment, Pickering gazed with some distress between the lady and his friend, before following the lady. Gaping in incredulous horror, Higgins stamped one foot childishly and stormed after them, still stinging from Eliza's retort.

Once Mrs. Pearce had been given a brief explanation, she took the child up to Eliza's room, placed her in the bed and prepared a warming pan and some hot cocoa. Higgins stood in the hallway, leaning on the banister and staring at the fuss ensuing for the sake of this little girl. There had never been this much fuss when _he_ was ill! He felt like a stranger in his own home. How had things gone from the playful banter he and Eliza had shared in the park to the sharp lashing of her tongue he'd just received? Well, he certainly wasn't going to go up to her room and make any kind of apology. No, he'd just wait here.

Quite suddenly, Henry sighed, and ran a hand through his greying hair. His mind wandered to that fateful afternoon tea at his mother's house, the day he had enticed Eliza to return to Wimpole Street.  
She had said, _And you may throw me out tomorrow if I don't do everything you want me to?_ and he had replied, _Yes: and you may walk out tomorrow if I don't do everything you want me to._

Now, he realised, this was not quite the truth. He had come to realise that, even if part of him wanted to, a much larger part of him _couldn't_ throw her out. She could do whatever she wanted; fill the house with twenty ill flower girls, and he would still not be able to turn her away. More than that, he could not stand to have her leave him. He had let his guard down and weakened, and he couldn't find his way back to that serene independence.  
"Damn, damn, _damn_!"

Henry raised his eyes to the heavens with an air of desperation.  
"Let a woman in your life…!"


	5. How D'You Do's

**Chapter 5**

"How is she, Mrs. Pearce?"  
Eliza tiptoed into her bedroom, coming to stand next to the housekeeper as they gazed down at the unconscious child.  
"Well, I'm sure she'll come to and any minute. Pass me that damp flannel, please."  
Mrs. Pearce sat down on the edge of the bed and began to mop Mandy's dirt-smudged forehead.

"You're a good soul, Miss Doolittle. Not everyone would have helped the child."  
"No, not everyone," Eliza agreed grimly, an unwelcome question invading her mind; would Henry really have left her on the pavement? "But I had to."  
The old housekeeper nodded in understanding, and continued to tend to little Mandy. "Do you have any idea where she's from?"  
Eliza jumped as a response came from the closed door behind her.  
"Lisson Grove."  
A faint smile lit her eyes as she realised Higgins was waiting outside the door; too proud to enter and apologise, but willing to help with his knowledge of London dialects.  
"Your expertise is appreciated," she informed the door, with warmth in her voice. "The poor girl," she added reflectively, remembering the days when Lisson Grove was her own home.

Their attention was grabbed as Mandy began to stir, semi-consciously straining away from the cold flannel. A soft whimper escaped her lips. Eliza sat down on the opposite edge of the bed, and waited.  
"Mandy?"  
The little girl's eyes opened slowly, her little forehead creased with pain.  
"M…Mama?"  
"No, no love, it's Miss Doolittle. Remember me, I bought a violet from you."  
Her eyes now fully open, the girl was suddenly overwhelmed by her unfamiliar and unbelievably comfortable surroundings. "Where am I? How did I get here?"  
Her voice rose in distress, and hot tears flowed down her grubby cheeks. Eliza wanted desperately to comfort her, to let her know things were alright.  
"It's alright, Mandy. You fell and hit your head, so we took you inside. Mrs Pearce and I are going to look after you."  
The little girl was frowning in an effort to take in all the new information, and remained silent. Mrs Pearce took charge.  
"Now how about we sit you up, and you have a nice hot cup of cocoa."  
As Eliza propped up the pillow for Mandy to lean against, the little girl stared at her intently. "Aow, I do remember you! You bought me a bun."  
"That's right," Eliza smiled, as Mrs Pearce handed her a cup of steaming cocoa. Mandy sniffed at it, then took a cautious sip. After a moment, her eyes lit up, and she took another eager gulp of the chocolatey liquid.  
"Don't drink it too fast," the young woman chuckled, "it's hot."

When Mandy had finished her cocoa she was looking much better, and Mrs Pearce brought her a basin of hot water to wash her face and hands.  
"You will stay with us tonight, and we'll see about getting you home in the morning. Goodnight, love."  
The little mouth curved into a smile as Eliza tucked her back into bed. "Goodnight, Miss Doolittle."

Leaving Mrs. Pearce with the child, Eliza closed the door behind her, and found herself face to face with Henry Higgins. She had almost forgotten he was out in the hall.  
"I'm going to sleep on the divan tonight, if you don't mind," she said, by way of explanation.  
"It doesn't bother me in the least, but won't you get cold?"  
"I'll be fine," she replied, opening a cupboard and retrieving a thick blanket. Now without a distracting activity, she was forced to face him. For a moment they simply looked at each other in tense silence.  
"So, the girl's alright?" the man offered eventually. Eliza nodded, with a small smile. He couldn't help being himself; and he _was_ trying.  
"Yes, she'll be fine. I'm afraid you'll have to put up with _two_ lowly guttersnipes now."  
"Well, if I can tolerate one, then…" he trailed off, a teasing smile playing on his lips, and Eliza smiled as she recognised the same Henry she had laughed with in the park earlier.  
"I'm sure you'll manage," she grinned, placing a hand on his shoulder and reaching up to kiss his cheek. "Goodnight."  
He did not release the hand on his shoulder, pulling her back to face him. "I'm not really heartless," he murmured.  
"I know you're not," she replied earnestly, squeezing his hand and leaning in again to place another, lingering kiss on his cheek. He had a pleasantly masculine scent, probably his soap.  
"Goodnight, Henry."  
He watched her go, his cheek still warm. Then he sighed, and wandered down the hall to his room.

* * *

When Eliza tiptoed into her bedroom, she found the curtains already open and Mandy sitting up in bed with a glass of orange juice.  
"Good morning," she beamed.  
"Good morning Miss," came the soft reply, accompanied by a shy smile.  
"Are you feeling better?"  
"Yes, thank you Miss. I…well…I mean, thank you ever s'much Miss. It's awful good of you look after me like this. Anything could'a happened to me. An' this bed, well, it's like a cloud!"  
Eliza chuckled. "You're very welcome, Mandy. And you don't have to keep calling me Miss, you know. My name is Eliza."  
"That's a pretty name."  
"Thank you. May I ask, how old are you?"  
"I'm…nine years old, Mi--Eliza."

The door opened behind them, and Mrs. Pearce entered with a hot breakfast on a tray. "I'll leave you to your breakfast, and we'll see you down in the drawing room."  
As Eliza closed the door behind herself, she heard the girl ask, "The _what_ room?" and she chuckled.

When Mandy came downstairs with Mrs Pearce, Higgins was reading Keats, while Eliza and Pickering finished their breakfasts.  
"Here she is," Eliza smiled when she looked up and realized was entering.  
"Mandy, I'd like to introduce you (again) to Colonel Pickering, and Professor Higgins."  
The Colonel shook the girl's hand cheerfully, with a kindly smile.  
"I am very pleased to meet you, Miss Mandy."  
She then turned to the Professor, who closed his book and crossed the room to greet her. He followed his friend's example and shook her hand.  
"I do hope you're feeling better this morning."  
Eliza couldn't hide a smile; at least Henry's society upbringing had taught him good manners. The flower girl nodded, and took the offered seat next to Eliza. The company of the less-familiar men had apparently reduced her to silence.

"So, Mandy," began Eliza, "how long have you been selling flowers?"  
"Aow, a few years."  
Henry cringed at the discordant vowels that formed the child's dialect, and turned back to his beloved poetry.  
"I'm sure you're a great help to your parents," added Pickering conversationally, but the girl lowered her eyes.  
"I ain't got none."

Henry repressed the inner voice muttering _haven't got __any_, withdrawing from his book to focus on the child. With mild surprise he realised that he felt sympathetic towards her. His glance fled to Eliza, whose expression was one of deepest empathy. She really was beautiful…Pickering looked simply mortified that he had caused the child any unhappiness by bringing up the subject in the first place.

"Well, you _are_ a brave little girl, Eliza squeezed her hand gently, "I don't think I could've been that strong at your age. The street-life ain't easy."  
Henry and Mandy raised their eyebrows in a simultaneous expression of shock as Eliza reverted to her old Lisson Grove dialect, causing her to chuckle.  
"I should explain. Believe it or not, Mandy, I was once a flower girl too."  
The child frowned, utterly bewildered. "You, Miss? But you're…"  
With a sly pre-emptive grin at Henry, Eliza affected her finest Cockney elocution. "Well, I was simply mindin' me own business outside the church when Professor 'iggins 'ere started announcin' that 'e could make a duchess of me, and, to make a long story short, 'e pretty well did."  
The gaping little girl was now at least convinced of Eliza's origins, even if she was extremely hazy on the details of the story. Higgins was still cringing from the aural torture he was being subjected to. Seeing that Mandy was practically rendered speechless by a familiar dialect issuing from such a seemingly-elegant lady, Eliza decided to propel the conversation herself.  
"I like to sit in the garden every morning, and water the flowers for Mrs Pearce. Would you like to join me?"  
"Alright," agreed the girl, slipping off the chair and following Eliza out of the drawing room.

When they were alone, Pickering addressed his friend.  
"Well, she seems to be a sweet child, although no doubt she's seen far too much for her years."  
Henry nodded. "But she's an orphan? Then who are we to hand her back to?"

The Colonel chewed his moustache momentarily. "It's just a thought old chap, but might I suggest that you don't pose that question to Miss Doolittle any time in the immediate future?"


	6. Spring Cleaning and Springfever

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter is dedicated to Kate, because she was feeling blue, and doesn't deserve to. I hope this cheers you up a bit._

**Chapter 6**

Henry strolled past his study, glancing through the doorway to find his fiancé sitting on the divan with Mandy, playing a hand-claps game with which they both seemed familiar.

"Sing a song of sixpence, a pocket full of rye,  
Four-and-twenty blackbirds baked in a pie.  
When the pie was opened, the birds began to sing  
Wasn't that a dainty dish to set before a King!"  
Speeding up the claps until it was too fast to continue properly, the two young women ceased their chanting and collapsed into giggles.  
"Oh, I remember that so well!" Eliza laughed, before turning to Pickering, who was reading in the corner.  
"Would you like to try, Colonel Pickering?"  
"Oh, well uh,…I…yes, alright?"  
Eliza's eyes sparkled; the dear old man was too polite to refuse. He took Eliza's place on the divan and raised his hands to meet Mandy's.  
"You'll have to start slowly."  
"The King was in his counting house, counting out his money.  
The Queen was in the parlour, eating bread and honey.  
The maid was in the garden, hanging out the clothes—"

At the sight of the highly educated Colonel Pickering struggling to manage a child's nursery game, Higgins sighed in frustration and strode out of the doorway, wondering what had become of the world. He was in such a rush that he nearly bowled over Mrs Pearce, knocking a pile of folded clothes from her hands.  
"Oh, I'm sorry Mrs Pearce, how clumsy of me."  
"Not at all, Professor Higgins," the housekeeper lied dutifully, bending to pick up what was appeared to be a small frock.  
"Mrs Pearce…what is that?"  
"Oh, these used to belong to my little granddaughter Molly, but she's outgrown them now. I thought they might suit Miss Mandy; that little frock of hers is a disgrace!"  
When had Mandy become a 'Miss'? When had Pickering become fond of nursery rhymes? When had the world turned upside down?  
Observing his bewildered expression with a light chuckle, Mrs Pearce continued down the hall, adding over her shoulder, "You're not going to make a habit of this taking in flower girls, are you sir?"

* * *

"Did you enjoy your luncheon?" Mrs Pearce asked as she cleared away their plates. Mandy had never had a 'luncheon' before, but she nodded vigorously.  
"It were bloomin' loverly!"  
"Oh, ah, thank you dear. Now I'm afraid you'll all have to clear out of the drawing room for the afternoon, for the staff and I shall be busily Spring Cleaning."  
"Oh," said Eliza. "Well, I could give you a hand. And I'm sure Mandy would be interested to watch, wouldn't you love?"  
The nine year old nodded. "I can pitch in too."  
"That sounds like a plan," Miss Doolittle beamed, before glancing toward the men. "I don't suppose you'd care to join us?"  
Pickering stammered, "Well, uh, actually, I—I did promise old Buck that I'd meet him for a game of billiards this afternoon."  
Henry's only response was to raise an eyebrow.  
"Alright then, gentlemen," Mrs Pearce ushered them out the door, "go away and leave us womenfolk to it."

Mandy stood back and watched while Mrs Pearce and Eliza carefully removed the ornaments from Professor Higgins' bookshelf. The little girl had never seen so many beautiful things in her life, and was torn between the longing to touch them and the fear of breaking them. She was soon supplied with a simple task, when Mrs Pearce handed her a duster and instructed her to wipe down the table and windowsill.

As Mandy dusted, she gazed out of the window at the tree-lined street, with all its fine houses like the one she was in. She gazed at the little vase containing a single rose, and she gazed at her only reflection in the perfectly polished tabletop. Mandy had never seen herself look like this before. She gazed at Miss Doolittle, who was brushing the carpet. How elegant she was, how pretty, and how kind. Mandy felt like she'd died and gone to heaven, waking up in a warm bed with a beautiful face smiling down at her. And this wonderful day, playing and laughing with someone who actually had time for her, was interested in her. It was a dream.

"Mandy? Come over here."  
Eliza was whispering conspiratorially from behind Professor Higgin's desk, and the little girl ran eagerly to her call.  
"This is where Professor Higgins keeps his chocolates. He doesn't know that I know where they are," the woman's eyes were sparkling. "Go on, have one."  
Mandy reached out uncertainly, taking the small chocolate and popping it in her mouth. Eliza couldn't help but chuckle at the expression on her face; the girl had obviously never tasted chocolate before.  
"I might let you have another one when we're all finished."  
Mandy could have skipped as Miss Doolittle shepherded her back to the table with a warm, soft hand on her shoulder. She couldn't help humming to herself as she continued her light task.

Eliza looked up from the shelf she was arranging as a familiar tune met her ears. She looked across to find that the soft humming came from Mandy, who was dusting the chairs with a look of utter contentment. She was flooded with affection for the dear little girl, and began to sing along.  
"—with one enormous chair,  
Aoww, wouldn't it be loverly?"  
Mandy's head snapped up in surprise. "You know it too?"  
"Well, I did grow up in Lisson Grove, love," Eliza replied, again reverting to her old accent. Mandy beamed, and continued her song. Their song.  
"Lots of choc-lit for me to eat,  
Lots of coal making lots of 'eat…"

* * *

Henry had been carefully avoiding his study, but he guessed by the silence that it would probably be safe by now. He opened the door, to find Eliza, Mandy, and Mrs Pearce enjoying a cup of tea together and admiring their work. Admittedly, the room did look a lot better.  
"Oh, hello there Henry," Eliza smiled, and Mandy wondered how such a loverly woman as Miss Doolittle could want to marry a grumpy old man like Professor Higgins.  
"You know, I really can't understand what comes over you women, when you suddenly have this urge for Spring Cleaning."  
"Spring fever," offered Mandy, with the straightest of faces. Eliza snorted into her teacup. Mrs Pearce got to her feet, obviously uncomfortable at sitting down in her employer's presence.  
"How about you come with me dear? I'll show you what I'm making for dinner." Mandy leapt to her feet at the mention of food, and soon the fiancés were alone.

"Aren't you impressed?"  
Henry surveyed the cleaned room with mild interest. "Yes, it's better. Although…the bust of Aristophanes belongs on the second shelf."  
"Oh, forgive me," Eliza feigned apology, but Henry did not seem amused.  
"It's a damned horrid afternoon out there," he sighed, glaring out the window as he corrected the positioning of his ornamentation.  
"Well, isn't _someone_ feeling cheerful today?" After the bouncy presence of Mandy, Eliza was finding her irritable fiancé rather frustrating.  
"Well it's hardly surprising. A man doesn't like having his house invaded and rearranged."  
"Invaded?"  
"Shall we say I've been perfectly happy _without_ hearing 'Sing A Song of Sixpence' for the past…many years."

Eliza would have been amused at his skillful evasion at stating his age, but instead she felt anger flare inside her. Why was it too much to ask that he made some effort to get along with Mandy? It wasn't as though the girl was hard to like. Was he still caught up on the class difference? Had he forgotten the difference between _them_? Eliza couldn't forget it, hard as she tried.

"So you'd rather she sat quietly in the corner like a plaintive china doll?"  
"I'd rather she _wasn't_ sitting in _my_ corner!"

Oh, that was too much! He could tell her he wasn't heartless, but he was yet to prove it. Although, there _were_ moments when he opened up and let her in…but they were too few and far between.

"Anyway, we can't very well keep her sitting in my corner even if I wanted her there. She's got to go back."  
"Go back? To what?! To the streets, with no parents and a practically non-existent income?"  
"It's her life, Eliza."  
"It was mine too, but you had no qualms about lifting me out of it."  
Henry closed his mouth, and she felt a surge of triumph fuel her anger. That one always got him.  
"That was different."  
"It's no different! You don't know Henry, you've never lived it! You've spent your life locked up in this cosy world of armchairs and chocolates and slippers, and it's turned you into a bigoted old curmudgeon with not a care for anyone's welfare but your own!"  
The hurt in Henry's eyes was soon replaced with flares of indignant rage.  
"How dare you say that?! What do you know of me?"  
Their voices were rising with each retort, and Higgins crossed the room to confront her.  
"And you! You're just an emotional, insufferable wretch, and…absolutely beautiful."

For a moment, Eliza was caught off guard by the sudden change of direction. Anger still flooded her veins. Was that a low attempt to get around her?  
"You know, you're really quite attractive when you're smoldering with rage."  
Eliza heaved an angry sigh, trying desperately to hold on to the rage inside, even as she felt it slip away. Henry simply gazed at her, simple honesty in his eyes.  
"We _are_ fools, aren't we?" he shook his head in amused despair, and Eliza nodded. "I mean, what are we even arguing about?"  
"We are arguing about the fact that you're treating Mandy as though she's dirt under your feet."  
Henry stepped towards her, and placed a large hand on each shoulder. "I shouldn't have shouted. I don't really mind the girl, I just…I don't know, I feel all…I don't know."  
Sighing, Eliza rested her forehead against his chin, and he pressed a soft kiss to her brow. She raised her head, seeking another kiss of peace. As her lips found his, she realised that this was only the second time they had kissed.

His lips were warm, and surprisingly soft. The kiss seemed sweeter for the impassioned argument they had just fought; it was a kiss of mutual repentance. Eliza slipped her arms up around his neck, toying with the hair at the nape of his neck.

Henry emitted a muffled sound of surprise as she deepened the kiss. This was all unfamiliar territory for him, although by no means unpleasant. He just needed to show her how strongly he felt for her, and how much he didn't want to hurt her (he was still uncomfortable with verbal apologies). As if of their own accord, his arms encircled her, pulling her close so that she was drawn up against him.

Had Mandy been peeping through the keyhole, she would have been horrified to see her perfect Miss Doolittle and that boring Professor Higgins entwined in an increasingly passionate embrace (thankfully, the little girl was busily occupied in the kitchen). But Henry gently pulled away, deciding that he should let her go while he still had the will, and gazed down at her. Eliza looked stunned, and a little breathless.

"What was that?"  
"Spring fever."  
A throaty cackle erupted from her lips, and he pressed a finger over them to silence her. "Shhh! Now, I have always been a gentleman Eliza—"  
She snorted at that, and he hushed her once more.  
"—but even the most genteel of men have their weaknesses. If you expect me to remain a gentleman, I'll need your help. I'm not sure if you realise just how…well, you're very attractive."  
Eliza was enjoying this flattery, and the idea that he found her tempting.  
"I promise to be an utter laidy."  
He cringed as she tortured him (once again) with her Lisson Grove dialect.  
"I don't understand; such foul verbiage passes by those lips, and yet I still want to kiss them."  
She raised her eyebrows. "How poetic."  
"Why do think I read Keats all day?"

The door creaked open, giving them just enough time to disentangle themselves from each other. Mrs Pearce's smile was polite, but knowing.  
"Dinner is served."


	7. Goodnight, sweetheart

**Chapter 7**

Mandy leant back in the velvet-lined chair, placing her hands over the fullest stomach she could ever remember having. What a perfect day. Then her shoulders sagged a little. It would end, any moment now. They would decide that she was well enough to go back home (wherever that was) and they would turn her out onto the street. Oh, she didn't want to leave. But she would always have the memory of a wonderful day, and that wonderful woman. For a moment she considered the idea of faking further illness; but she couldn't bear to lie to such kind people.

"Mandy?"  
The girl's head snapped up as she realised Miss Doolittle was trying to get her attention. "Oh, you look tired, you poor thing. Did all that Spring Cleaning tire you out?"  
"I'm fine," Mandy shook her head, just as a yawn filled her throat, and Eliza chuckled. "I think it's time you went off to bed."  
Bed? Here? They were going to let her stay another night? Not about to argue, the little girl slid off her chair and made her way round the dining table. "Goodnight Mandy," beamed Colonel Pickering as she passed, and she shook the hand he extended to her with the same vigour he had offered her that morning.  
"Goodnight Mandy," echoed Professor Higgins, "and thank you for cleaning my study today." She raised her eyebrows in surprise. He was being nice all of a sudden. Well, if Miss Doolittle liked him, there must be something good about him, she supposed.  
"Yer welcome, sir. G'night."

The bed was warm and soft; Mandy loved the feeling of smooth clean cotton against her skin. Miss Doolittle dimmed the lights so that only the bedside lamp remained glowing, then she bent over to tuck her in. Mandy breathed in her perfume; she smelt just like a mother should. A mother…

"Have you got everything you need?"  
The girl nodded.  
"Good." Eliza turned to leave, then seemed to change her mind, and sat down on the edge of the bed.  
"Mandy…you said that both your parents have passed away…"  
The girl nodded again.  
"Who do you live with, then?"  
"Well…meself."  
A crease was forming in Miss Doolittle's brow, and Mandy hoped she hadn't displeased her.  
"Where do you sleep?"  
Mandy chewed her lip. She didn't want to admit to where she lived, it was so different to this beautiful house. But if Miss Doolittle really had used to be a flower girl, she would understand.  
"…There's a little spot in the park…a little seat with a roof. I sleep there."  
The crease in the lady's brow had doubled, and her eyes were shining. Now Mandy was sure she'd displeased her, and felt wretched. But Miss Doolittle grabbed her hand and squeezed it.  
"Mandy, I won't let you go back there. We'll help you, somehow. Don't you fret, love."

Then Miss Doolittle was on her feet, dimming the lamp further, and tucking her in again. "Sweet dreams."  
And she placed a light kiss on the girl's forehead. Mandy closed her eyes, savouring the warmth around her, as well as the warmth inside. For the first time ever, Mandy knew that she would sleep safely and soundly, and that her dreams would be sweet.


	8. What Brings Us Together

_DISCLAIMER: I did not write any of the poetry in the following chapter. It belongs to Edward Lear, Alfred Noyes, and William Shakespeare._

**Chapter 8**

That 'damned horrid afternoon' continued right through the evening to become a damned horrid morning, and another damned horrid afternoon. Rain pelted on the windowpanes, and the wind whistled by the eaves. At least, everyone thought it was a horrid day, except for Mandy. As much as she tried not to be calculating, she was still aware that they probably wouldn't send her away on a wet day like this one.

Eliza stood in the hallway, shrugging on a coat and reaching for her umbrella. Henry appeared from his study.  
"Where are you off to?"  
"I'm going to visit my father, to see how he's settling in to married life."  
The man nodded, sidling behind her to help her with her jacket. Suddenly his expression changed. "Will you be taking Mandy with you?"  
Eliza laughed. "Heavens no! I wouldn't subject her to my father! I'm reluctant to subject _myself_ to my father, if it weren't that he's my flesh and blood. No, she'll stay here for the day."  
"But…well, what will she do?"  
"Oh, I'm sure she'll find a way of entertaining herself. She could always teach Colonel Pickering another clapping game."  
Just as Higgins rolled his eyes laughingly, Pickering appeared, heading towards them down the hall.

"Speak of the devil! What are you up to, old chap?" Henry noticed with increasing distress that Pickering, too, was carrying an umbrella.  
"Well, I really _did_ promise old Buck that I'd meet him for a game of billiards. I just used it as an excuse the other day," the old man admitted sheepishly. The Professor's smile had well and truly faded.  
"So I am to be the only one in the house? Except for Mandy, that is?"  
"No, there'll be Mrs Pearce…oh no, it's her afternoon off."  
"So I'm to play the nanny?!"  
Eliza shrugged, a sly smile curving her mouth. "Looks like it. Just look on it as an opportunity to get in touch with your inner child, Henry. I hear it's quite therapeutic."  
And before he could muster a retort, she had opened her umbrella and was stepping out into the rain, blowing him a kiss as she left. Pickering opened his umbrella, tipped his hat to Higgins, and followed her. Henry stood in the hall, listening to the rain.

* * *

His study was his haven, warm and peaceful. He enjoyed these moments alone, to read and ponder. The silence was so calming…

But a moment later, the silence was silent no longer, replaced by a muffled thudding. It had a rhythm, and sounded suspiciously like hopscotch. Getting to his feet with a sigh, Henry snapped shut his book and went out into the hallway.

Mandy was clearly an inventive child; she had added a vertical element to hopscotch, by playing it on the stairs. He stood watching her, arms folded, until she noticed his presence.  
"Oh, good afternoon, sir."  
He remained silent, so she added, "Would you like to play, sir?"  
"No, thank you. Do you think perhaps you could do that a little more quietly?"  
Mandy cocked her head in thought, then smiled brightly. "I'll take me shoes off."  
Higgins left her on the stairs untying her shoelaces and retreated back to his study. He made the mistake of leaving the door ajar.

"Where's Miss Doolittle, sir?"  
"She's gone to visit her father," he muttered, not raising his eyes from the book.  
"Aow…What are you doing, sir?"  
Heaving another sigh, Henry closed his book. "I _was_ reading. You know, 'sir' is not actually a form of punctuation."  
The child stared blankly, and he remembered that she was only nine and probably had no idea what punctuation was. "You don't have to say 'sir' at the end of every sentence."  
"Aow…What are you reading?"  
"'_The Persians'_, a play by Aeschylus."

Mandy nodded, as though this explained everything, and sat herself down in the large armchair that Pickering usually favoured. Henry tried to continue reading, but the drumming of the rain seemed louder, and he couldn't concentrate. He turned to face the little girl.  
"Do you want something?"  
"No…Well, I've never read a story. I don't know any."  
"Not any? Not even 'Goldilocks and the Three Bears'?"  
Mandy shook her head. Henry could scarcely believe it. Everyone knew those stories, surely! Of course, she would never have had anyone to tell them to her. Henry felt a mostly unfamiliar sensation build inside him. This was an opportunity; an opportunity to share the majesty of the English language with someone who had never experienced it before. Of course, he would have to introduce her to something simple, to begin with. He didn't know what he had that would be suitable for a nine year old flower girl, but nevertheless he rose to his feet and made for the bookshelf.  
"Well, we can fix that. Let's see…No, that's too advanced…"

Mandy sat, propping up her chin with two hands, and watched him. He really wasn't so bad, she supposed. Just a little stuffy.  
"Yes, this will do quite nicely. Here we are…"  
Henry dusted off an old copy of Edward Lear's _'Book of Nonsense'_, and sat down behind his desk again. "This is a very short story, Mandy. It's in the form of a poem…rather like 'Sing a Song of Sixpence'."  
Mandy sat up attentively, and Henry began to read aloud.

"_The Owl and the Pussycat went to sea  
__In a beautiful pea-green boat,  
__They took some honey, and plenty of money,  
__Wrapped up in a five pound note."_

Henry felt rather self-conscious; he seldom read aloud, never to anyone else, and certainly not a children's nonsense poem. But he had a captive audience whose eyes were sparkling with amusement, so he continued,

"_They sailed away, for a year and a day,  
__To the land where the Bong-tree grows,  
__And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood  
__With a ring at the end of his nose, his nose, his nose,  
__With a ring at the end of his nose.  
__"Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling your ring?"  
__Said the Piggy, "I will"  
__So they took it away, and were married next day  
__By the Turkey who lives on the hill."_

When the poem was finished, Henry lowered the book and fixed Mandy with an enquiring gaze. "What do you think?"  
"I like that story," the girl beamed. "But I've never heard of a Bong-tree."  
"Oh, they're very exotic," the Professor confided, with a sparkle in his eye.

Eliza had never been so glad to see the welcoming door of 27A Wimpole Street, knowing that inside a fire and a dinner and a room full of friends awaited her. She closed her umbrella, shaking off the raindrops, and stepped into the warmth of the house. The woman sighed contentedly as she unbuttoned her coat; Mrs Pearce was obviously home, for a delicious aroma was wafting from the kitchen. Muffled speech echoed down the hall, and Eliza tiptoed to the doorway of Henry's study, peering through the crack.

"That's awful sad."  
"Yes, it's a tragedy. But it's beautifully written, the rhythm and the metaphors and similes. Just listen to the way it rolls off your tongue:  
'_The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,  
__The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,  
__The road was a ribbon of moonlight, over the purple moor,  
__And the highwayman came riding-  
__Riding-riding-  
__The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door._'"  
"But the highwayman dies in the end?"  
"Yes, the soldiers kill him."  
"Well that's not a very good ending. I like the one about the Owl better."

Eliza's lips were slowly curving into an involuntary smile. Who would have thought that Professor Henry Higgins and a nine year old flower girl could be brought together with the aid of a little poetry. Eliza was sorely tempted to hide in the doorway longer; glimpsing another facet of this fascinating, infuriating, wonderful man. Instead, she pushed the door further ajar and stepped inside, causing the readers to look up.

"I like 'The Owl and the Pussycat' better too," she agreed, crossing the room to stand behind Henry, as though to read over his shoulder (but mostly for the purpose of placing her hands on his shoulders), "I hate stories where lovers are parted."  
"How is your father, Miss Doolittle?"  
"Oh, he's his usual self." That response was directed more to Higgins, who chuckled. Mandy was silent for a moment, observing the interaction between them. Then she nodded in Miss Doolittle's direction, "So you're to be 'is trouble-and-strife?"  
Henry scoffed, "Oh, she's that already!" and Eliza laughed.  
"No Henry, 'trouble-and-strife' is rhyming slang for 'wife'."  
"Well, she's going to be that too. Now, why don't you head up apples-and-pears and give me a moment alone with my future trouble-and-strife?"  
The surprise on Mandy's face was quickly replaced with amusement.  
"He's a fast learner, your bloke."  
And with that, the nine year old skipped off out of the study and upstairs. Still laughing, Eliza stepped back so that Henry could stand up from his desk. "How did you know the rhyming slang for 'stairs'?"  
"I _have_ devoted extensive study to London dialects."

"I'm just about ready for dinner," Henry sighed contentedly, stretching after sitting for hours. Then his eyes fell on Eliza's ring.  
"You know what I just realised? I haven't yet told Mother that we're engaged."  
"There's no need; she dropped by yesterday when you were out. She told me I was positively glowing, that I must be in love. I couldn't deny it."  
Henry did a double take. Had he heard that right? She was…_in love_? Of course, she _had_ agreed to marry him, and she did kiss him lovingly, but actually hearing it was something else. She was smiling at him, enjoying his stunned reaction, and reiterating her words with the warmth in her eyes.

"Oh, well, that's…nice."  
She laughed at that, and he felt ridiculous. But she grabbed his hand and made for the door, pulling him with her. At least she didn't mind that he couldn't say it yet.  
"Let's go and have dinner."

* * *

Eliza realized with slight dismay that tucking Mandy in was becoming normal. She had a routine; dim the lamps, tuck her in with a kiss, and turn out the lights. After tucking her in, Eliza sat down on the edge of the bed. She didn't want to upset the girl, but there were things that needed to be said.  
"Did you have a nice day today?"  
"Oh yes. He's a good man, Professor Higgins. I can see why you're marryin' 'im."  
Warmth flooded the woman. "Thank you. Mandy, we have really loved having you stay with us. Like I said last night, I won't let you go back to life on the streets. Tomorrow we'll start looking for somewhere for you to go. I hope you understand…"  
Mandy nodded, her deep hazel eyes earnest. "Of course I do, Miss. You've done so much for me already, more than anyone else in the world. I couldn't possibly ask anything more of you…I…thank you."  
Oh, why did she have to care so much for the girl! Why couldn't it be easier? Eliza dimmed the lamp, to hide her moist eyes.  
"Goodnight, Mandy."

* * *

Henry was just tidying away books in his study when Eliza found him.  
"Well, you have Mandy's approval," she smiled, adding, "_and_ you have mine. Although," she continued, helping her fiancé arrange his bookshelf, "you shouldn't be afraid to display a little affection every now and then."  
"Even if I am growing on her, I don't think Mandy would appreciate me kissing you in front of her. Neither would Pickering, for that matter," Henry forced a chuckle, but he was clearly growing uncomfortable.  
"No, no, I don't mean that. I mean, you could hold my hand occasionally, or call me 'dear', or—"

Henry took a deep breath.

"_My glass shall not persuade me I am old,  
So long as youth and thou are of one date;  
But when in thee time's furrows I behold,  
Then look I death my days should expiate."_

Eliza could only stare. His voice barely above a whisper, he would not meet her eyes as he recited the sonnet.

"_For all that beauty that doth cover thee  
Is but the seemly raiment of my heart,  
Which in thy breast doth live, as thine in me:  
How can I then be elder than thou art?"_

_O, therefore, love, be of thyself so wary  
As I, not for myself, but for thee will;  
Bearing thy heart, which I will keep so chary  
As tender nurse her babe from faring ill.  
Presume not on thy heart when mine is slain;  
Thou gavest me thine, not to give back again_."

Finally he raised his eyes, and she felt queer in the stomach when she saw the intensity of his expression. Eliza had never heard a silence so deafening. She wasn't sure she could speak.  
"K-Keats?"  
"Shakespeare. Sonnet 22."  
"It's lovely...You _do_ have some romance in you."  
"Yes, you bring out the worst in me, my dear."  
Chuckling, Eliza leaned in and hugged him close, smiling as she felt him nuzzle her neck. "Oh, it's been a long day. May I walk you to your room?"


	9. What the Simple Folk Do

_DISCLAIMER:_ _I do not own the lyrics in this chapter. I'm not quite sure who wrote them, but it wasn't me._

**Chapter 9**

As they climbed the stairs to their respective bedrooms, Eliza reached for her fiancé's hand, searching for some way to express the tenderness still humming through her after his romantic recitation. He looked up in surprise, then smiled slightly and squeezed her hand.

"Henry," she began, a fanciful smile lighting her features, "I have a suggestion…"  
"Again?"  
She laughed. "I'd like to take you out tonight."  
Henry paused mid-step. "Firstly, it is the gentleman who takes the lady out. Secondly, you want to go out now?"  
"Yes. A sort of spur-of-the-moment romantic whim. Haven't you ever done anything on a whim before?"  
A singular raised eyebrow was sufficient answer.  
"Well you're coming whether you want to or not. Get a coat, and meet me in the hall. And take your tie off!"

When Henry came back downstairs, he found Eliza waiting for him by the door.  
"I still think this is absurd," he muttered, despite the sparkle in his eye. But the woman ignored his protests and linked her arm with his.  
"Come on Professor, let's take a walk."  
"Where are you taking me?"  
Eliza tapped her nose conspiratorially. "Wait and see."

"Seriously," insisted Henry, several blocks later, "Where are you taking me?"  
"Oh hush, you'll see in a minute."  
"You mean, it's somewhere around here?"  
The man cast a dubious gaze around the nondescript streets.  
"Yes actually. It's just around the corner."  
As they rounded the corner, Henry stared up at the dimly glowing marquee that read 'The Old Bedford Music Hall'. While Eliza observed his expression with a smirk, he turned to her. "A music hall?"  
"Today you showed Mandy a part of your world; now I want to show you a part of mine. I've never been inside a music hall myself, but I've heard friends who could afford entry talk about it, and sing the popular songs."  
The Professor still looked sceptical.  
"Oh come on. Be brave."  
He couldn't back down from that, and allowed himself to be pulled through the door.

The air was thick with smoke, and the smell of beer. Henry eyed the crowd cautiously, sure he must stick out like a sore thumb. In truth, now that he wasn't wearing a tie he did not look so very different from the general populace, except for his well-kempt hair.

Eliza gestured for him to sit, and he did so. Her fiancé looked distinctly uncomfortable, and dependant on her to guide him through this unfamiliar world. A barrage of light, colour, smell and sound. She, on the other hand, looked as though she had got last-minute tickets for the Russian ballet. He noted with interest the way she glowed with excitement and pleasure.

"Here they come," she leaned closer and whispered to him, pointing out the orchestra as they came onstage. Well, 'orchestra' was too grand a word really. 'Band' would be more appropriate; it included a banjo player and a drummer. A murmur came up from the crowd as the conductor took his place, and an overture of sorts began. Henry was horrified to find that they talked over the musicians; that simply _wasn't done_ …Well, not to the Symphony Orchestra anyway.

Henry decided to focus his attention on Eliza; the reason he was here in the first place, and by far and away the hall's most attractive feature. She smiled and hummed along with the band, every so often casting him a glance to assess his reactions.

A gentleman clad in a second-hand tuxedo took to the stage, and judging by the scattered applause Henry assumed he was well-known. He began to sing.  
"_Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer, do  
__I'm half crazy, oh for the love of you,"  
_The lyrics were obscenely saccharine, but it brought a smile to Eliza's face as she hummed along. He felt her swaying to the rhythm in her seat next to him. There was no obvious code of conduct; it appeared that one could talk or drink or sway as much as one liked. However, the idea seemed to be that the audience were encouraged to join in the last verse. When they sang together, they really sounded quite pleasant. Not always pure voices, but strong and eager.

After the song, the band began a lively instrumental, and despite Henry's dislike of the banjo, his foot began to tap almost involuntarily. At one stage, the audience began to clap in rhythm, and after his initial shock, he felt an unfamiliar sense of…what was it? The atmosphere was entirely different from, say, the Royal Opera House. Different in the style and quality of artistry, obviously…but different in the _soul_ of it too. When one attended an opera, one observed alone amongst hundreds. In this music hall, the audience did not merely observe; they were just as active and interesting as what occurred onstage. All of that aside, there was something oddly pleasant about simple, familiar tunes. And the room was brightened even more still by the glowing face next to his.

"I knew you'd have fun in the end," she grinned, and he grabbed her hand, holding it on his knee. Who would have thought that he could be comfortable displaying affection in a hall full of tipsy, illiterate, singing civilians? And yet, here he was. Just as they were getting lost in each other's eyes, the woman onstage burst into a rousing chorus, and the entire auditorium joined in.

"_My old man said 'Follow the van,  
__And don't dilly dally on the way.'  
__Off went the cart wiv me 'ome packed in it,  
__I walked behind wiv me old cock linnet.  
__But I dillied and dallied, dallied and dillied,  
__Lost the van and don't know where to roam.  
__You can't trust a special like the old time coppers  
__When you can't find your way 'ome!_"  
The hall burst into applause, and Henry allowed himself to join in.

Their breath turned to mist in the night air as the couple hurried home through the dark streets.  
"Thank you for showing me that, Eliza. That is one experience I would never have enjoyed if it weren't for you."  
The woman chuckled as he clicked his fingers to the tune she still hummed.  
"You're welcome. See what fun a whim can bring? You should try being spontaneous more often."

Too much of a gentleman to argue with a lady, Henry obeyed her command; spontaneously grabbing her by the wrist and pulling her into a tight embrace. She scarcely had time to register surprise before he pressed a kiss to her gaping mouth (and suddenly the night air did not seem so cold). A moment later he pulled back and grinned down at her.  
"Does that meet your expectations?"  
"Surpasses them," she murmured, before returning his kiss. They sprung apart when a wolf-whistle pierced the air. On the corner, some fellow music hall patron had observed their embrace.  
"Oh, sod off," Eliza laughed good-naturedly, and Henry offered the stranger a sheepish wave. A second later, the sky opened above them, and raindrops spattered around them.  
"Oh, not again."  
Henry grabbed his fiancé's hand and they made a dash for the nearest eaves.

After establishing a cramped space out of the rain, he turned to face her.  
"Shall I try and hail us a cab?"  
"Actually," Eliza smiled, "I quite like running through the rain with you."  
Henry chuckled as he remembered the time they had been caught in a thunderstorm at Brighton. He had enjoyed that too.  
"Then that is what we shall do. The things I do to keep you happy," he teased, but then his face grew serious. "Eliza…is there anything else I could do to make you happy? Happi_er_?"

Eliza smiled tenderly, and was about to reply that she couldn't want for more than she already had, when she paused, and took a deep breath.  
"Mandy. I can't give her up; even if we could find a decent place for her, it would never be as good as the home she's had a glimpse of. I remember what it felt like, thinking that I could never return to Wimpole Street. Henry, couldn't we…adopt her? She has no parents, no home…"

Henry gazed at the woman before him, her eyes pleading. He was not honestly surprised by her request; he had seen the way she had interacted with Mandy. Yes, it would be a sacrifice; his lifestyle would certainly change. It would be a final farewell to any peaceful serenity, that was for sure, between nursery games and hopscotch. But the child was not so bad…quite likeable, in fact…And she brought out something in Eliza, a mix of tenderness and humour and…he couldn't describe it, but he liked her that way. He liked _them_ that way. And well, at first impressions he would never had guessed the depth of feeling he would come to feel for Eliza, so perhaps the same was possible with _this_ flower girl as well.

"Well, since I'm throwing in the towel as a bachelor I may as well go the whole nine yards."  
Uncertainty flickered in Eliza's eyes for a moment, soon replaced by tentative hope. "You mean..?"  
"I'll look into the adoption process first thing in the morning."  
Henry Higgins had never been hugged so tight in all his more-than-forty years. "Oh Henry, thank you! You don't know what this means to me."  
"Actually," he murmured into her hair, "I think I have some idea…based on the way you're cutting off my circulation."  
Eliza laughed and released him, wiping her damp eyes with her sleeve.  
"I know a lady should never confuse her sleeve with her handkerchief, but this is hardly a moment for social niceties."  
Henry laughed heartily, and taking her hand in his, they set off through the rain; to the house that would soon to be 'home' to one more special person.


	10. LoveStarved No Longer

**Chapter 10**

Mandy's head rested on the pillow, her eyelids drooping as she entered a state of delicious drowsiness, comfort, and warmth. She didn't want to close her eyes; she wanted to savour every second that remained for her in this beautiful, comfortable bedroom. The previous night Miss Doolittle had moved back into her own room, sleeping on the divan, and Mandy had enjoyed the companionship of sharing a room. But she hadn't come up yet tonight; perhaps she and the Professor were having supper downstairs.

The girl slipped back into full consciousness as she heard footsteps and soft murmuring in the hall.  
"Do you really think we should wake her?"  
"If I were her, I'd want to know immediately. _I_ want to _ask_ her immediately!"  
Mandy's stomach fell as she heard the door handle turn. They had come to tell her they had found somewhere for her to go. She would have to leave in the morning.  
Miss Doolittle tiptoed across the room, bending down beside her bed and placing a hand on Mandy's arm to wake her. She was so gentle; Mandy knew she could not bear to be parted from her.  
"Mandy, love? Are you awake?"  
"Yes, Miss Doolittle."  
"I'm sorry to bother you, but would you mind putting on your dressing gown and coming downstairs. Professor Higgins and I have something very important to say to you."  
The nine year old allowed Eliza to help her into her dressing gown, savouring every gentle touch.

Half asleep with dread in the pit of her stomach, Mandy trudged downstairs to the drawing room. Miss Doolittle was seated on the divan, while the Professor stood by the drink cart with a glass of port in his hand.

"Good evening, Mandy," the man smiled, after taking a sip. He was silent for a moment, then continued jovially, "You'll never guess where we've just been—Miss Doolittle and I went to a music hall this evening. You would have enjoyed it; singing and dancing and a wonderful band."  
"Anyway," Miss Doolittle interrupted, "we got you out of bed because we have something very important to say to you—to ask you, that is."  
She looked to her fiancé, expecting him to continue, but he returned her expression of silent expectation; neither wanting to speak first.  
"Well, Mandy," sighed the Professor, after draining his port glass, "we've told you that we were going to find a new place for you to live. And we have."  
The dread in the girl's stomach felt acidic now, eating away at her insides, and she clenched her fists in her dressing gown. The couple looked at each other, then he continued.  
"We would very much like you to stay with us. Of course, we'll have to sort out the adoption process, which won't be simple since you do not currently have a residence, but we'll do everything in our power to—"  
He paused as Eliza hushed him, getting to her feet and watching Mandy with a hopeful and enquiring gaze.

Mandy could not speak. That probably meant she was dreaming; you can't always do everything you want to in a dream, and after the words that the Professor had just spoken she was sure that this could not be reality. The material of her dressing gown felt real, and she could smell a faint whiff of port, but surely…

"Would you _like_ to stay with us, love?"

It couldn't be real. It just couldn't; this sort of thing never happened to _her_. Maybe if she stayed very still she would never wake up and the wonderful dream would continue. But Miss Doolittle's expression grew concerned.

"You don't need to answer us yet. Just think about it."

The Professor nodded in agreement, his brow furrowing a little in what looked like disappointment. She couldn't bear to disappoint them, even in a dream, so Mandy fought to find her voice.  
"I…I…"  
"What is it, love?"  
No word in her limited vocabulary could express how desperately Mandy wanted to stay with them, to be a part of their lives. So instead the girl stepped towards them, throwing herself into Eliza's arms (which opened just in time). Miss Doolittle's embrace was warm, sweet-smelling and very real. It was not a dream. Her face buried in Eliza's shoulder, Mandy felt a kiss pressed to the top of her head.  
"Is that a yes?" the woman murmured, her voice not quite even. Mandy lifted her tearstained face and nodded vigorously, provoking a watery laugh from the two adults.  
"We're glad, Mandy," smiled the Professor, sharing a warm gaze with his fiancé, "We're very glad."  
"Now, we'll sort the details out in the morning. Meanwhile, it's well past your bedtime, young lady."

Tucked back into that warm, soft bed, Mandy smiled at the silhouetted couple standing in the doorway.  
"Goodnight, Mandy."  
"Goodnight, love."  
"Goodnight," she replied, still smiling as their silhouettes disappeared behind the closing door. Now she knew that they would never disappear completely; they would be there for her. No dream could be sweeter.

At the top of the stairs, Henry wrapped an arm around his fiancé's waist, pulling her closer to his side.  
"What say, since we'll be negotiating the adoption system, we set about planning a wedding as well?"  
Eliza's already-glowing eyes brightened. "Oh, yes! And perhaps sooner rather than later would be wise," she smiled, with a meaningful gaze. He grinned, getting her meaning.  
"Either that or we need to find a better chaperone very quickly. You know, this whole wedding process is going to be damned stressful (one of the reasons I avoided it for so many years) but at least we've got part of it organised already; we've already got ourselves a flower girl."  
Laughter bubbled up inside Eliza. "Two, in fact."  
"I shall take care that I don't get the two muddled up."  
"Well, one of us will be wearing white."  
"In the interests of keeping it that way," smiled Henry, with a glint in his eye as he enjoyed the shape and warmth of her waist under his hands, "perhaps we ought to bid each other goodnight."  
Unable to keep the sparks from her eyes at his bold allusion, she nodded. "You're right. Goodnight Henry."  
She pressed a chaste kiss to his mouth, then added softly, "Thank you."  
"Thank me for what?"  
"For unintentionally changing the lives of two love-starved flower girls."  
The man's expression softened. "You're very welcome," he murmured, "but I feel I've been grossly overpaid in return."  
The honesty becoming too much for her, Eliza lightened the mood. "Just you wait until you've tried planning a wedding with me."  
Laughing, Henry pressed a sweet kiss to the tip of her nose. "Oh, go off to bed before I start loving you too much to bear."  
Having turned to leave, Eliza paused mid-step and spun back to face him.  
"What was that?"  
"I said go to bed before…" he paused, realising what he had said, "…before you get ugly black bags under your eyes."  
Chuckling and thinking herself lucky that he had said it even once, she opened her bedroom door. Looking back at him with a smile, she replied softly, "I love you too."

* * *

Mandy stirred. It was dark and quiet, but something had woken her. Then she realised that someone was moving on tiptoe in the darkness of the bedroom. Miss Doolittle was preparing for bed.

Listening to the soft rustling as the woman pulled on her nightgown, Mandy heard a pause, as though she was not sure what to do next. Then she felt the duvet lifted, and Eliza climbed into the bed next to her.  
Instantly Mandy assumed stillness, pretending to be asleep. She could feel warmth radiating from Miss Doolittle, and suddenly the girl felt rather tearful as she experienced for the first time what most children would have known from birth. A moment later, a warm slender arm encircled Mandy and pulled her close. The tears spilled down her cheeks, and she jammed her eyes shut, savouring the moment. She scolded herself inwardly for crying; she had never been so happy, and this happiness looked as if it was going to continue.

Wrapped in a gentle, warm embrace, Mandy allowed herself to relax, and sighed.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Whaddaya know, Clare was right! ;-P  
Stay tuned, there's more to come! Thank you all for your kind reviews!


	11. Wedding Bands for Anxious Hands

**DISCLAIMER:Coleridge wrote the poem in this chapter, not me. If _could_ write like that, I would be making money as a literary genius. Wouldn't it be...sigh**

**Chapter 11**

When Mandy woke the next morning, she was alone in the bed, but she smiled at the indent in the pillow where Miss Doolittle…Eliza?…Mother?! …had been lying. After a moment, she noticed that by some inexplicable miracle a beautiful new dress was laid out for her. After several glorious minutes of gazing at herself in the mirror, she hurried downstairs to see her two favourite adults in the world. Practically skipping down the stairs, she nearly bowled over Colonel Pickering.

"Oh, good morning Mandy—what a lovely little dress!"  
"Aow, thanks Colonel Pickering, ain't it bee-autiful? I'm just on me way down to see the Professor and Miss Doolittle. Have you seen them?"  
"I believe they're in the study, making plans for a wedding. Theirs."  
The girl gasped in excitement and scampered off to the study.

They were sitting close together, studying a piece of paper.  
"Yes, well all of Mother's socialite friends will be there of course, so—" Henry looked up. "Oh, good morning Mandy."  
"Good morning. Thank you ever s'much for the dress."  
"It suits you," Eliza smiled, looking her up and down, "Henry has surprisingly good taste when buying dresses for his ladies…but he's not allowed to see my wedding dress before the big day, so I'll need your help choosing that."  
"Speaking of the wedding, I suppose we should ask you if you want to be our flower girl? That is, to walk down the aisle just in front of Eliza," the man added, realising that the girl had probably never heard of a 'flower girl' in the bridal sense. "You see, one's not quite enough."  
A shy smile lit Mandy's face as the Professor grinned at his _other_ flower girl.  
"I'd love to!"

"Now, Eliza and I have a great deal to organize, and I'm sure it would bore you to tears, but I believe Pickering is going for a stroll in the park, so," he reached into his pocket, retrieving a handful of coins, "why don't you two enjoy a toffee apple on me?"  
Mandy accepted the coins with sincere gratitude. "Aoww, thank you sir—Prof—Henry."  
He laughed, then as she was about to escape out the door he added, "But tonight you shall receive a lesson in elocution."  
"Bloomin' 'eck!" exclaimed the two ex-flower girls simultaneously.

* * *

The weeks passed; days spent in the study organising flowers and seating and guest lists and suits. The entire household was frightfully busy. It certainly was a stressful time; there were fairly frequent and fairly heated arguments over such matters as whether Society would really care if Henry did or did not wear a buttonhole. But every dispute invariably ended with a kiss of peace (or several, more often than not.)

"Damnation," groaned Henry, covering his face with his hands, "I can't be bothered anymore." Slowly, he parted his fingers to that he peeked out at Eliza. "Let's elope."  
"What?!" She dropped the seating plan.  
"Let's forget all this," he shoved a pile of papers off his desk unceremoniously, "and just get married. How does Paris sound to you?"  
"The idea has it's appeal," the woman conceded as he adorned her ear and neck with some very convincing kisses, "but I for one am not willing to face the wrath of your mother."  
His 'convincing' halted instantly. "Hmm, I hadn't thought of that. Well then, couldn't we move the wedding date forward?"  
"But Henry, we're so far behind as it is!"  
"Yes dear, but I _need_ to become your husband _very soon_."  
That earned him a smouldering smile, and paperwork was forgotten as she reminded him afresh just how quickly he needed to marry her.

* * *

"Mandy love, what do you think of this one?"  
Eliza examined the long white gown critically in Whiteley's shop mirror. Poking her head around the corner, Mandy gaped.  
"Aoww! I mean, oh! It's just the most beautiful thing I've seen in my life! _You're_ the most beautiful! Just wait till Henry sees you!"  
"Just wait till he sees _you_!" replied the woman, blushing a little at the compliment, "More importantly, wait till _my handsome nephew John_ sees you."  
It was Mandy's turn to blush. "Don't be silly! Boys are so…boyish!"  
Eliza chuckled. "Wait a year or two, love. Just you wait."

* * *

Henry wiped clammy hands on his clean black waistcoat. He refused to acknowledge that his hands were shaking, and his best man (Pickering, naturally) graciously ignored it.  
"For heaven's sake, pull yourself together, man!" he urged himself, fumbling in his pocket to check for the twenty-third time that he had not misplaced the ring, "You're only getting married!"  
Giving up all pretence of composure and leaning against the baptismal font, Henry sighed. "_This_ is why bachelors are intelligent."

All fear was forgotten half an hour later, when the organist began to play and he could be assured that Eliza would not leave him standing at the altar. A moment later, everything _else_ was forgotten as he caught sight of his bride.

"Well," smiled the new Mrs. Henry Higgins, as her husband helped her into their carriage, "that's that."  
Relaxing in his seat, Henry analysed the situation. Really, being a married man felt no different to being a bachelor. Except that the ravishing creature who sat glowing in the next seat was _his_ wife, and no one else's. Henry secretly wished that Freddy Eynsford-Hill could see him now. He was not entirely sure how on earth he had won Eliza, but in that moment he felt like a king.

The wedding breakfast was almost worth all the hassle it had taken; they certainly enjoyed their traditional 'first dance' together (Henry resisted the urge to lead her in a tango, for old times' sake).

Eliza smiled into her mother-in-law's heavily-perfumed embrace.  
"Congratulations, Eliza. For taking on Henry you must have the patience of a saint—and you certainly have my respect. But I am sure you are good for him…and him for you, somehow. And—oh…"  
Following the old woman's gaze, Eliza felt her heart melt as her gaze fell on Henry dancing with his flower girl. Mandy was laughing, and he spun her around with a grin. Observing the expression on her daughter-in-law's face, old Mrs. Higgins smiled. "It would be redundant for me to wish you every happiness—I see you already have it."

By the time the newlyweds escaped the party, they had had quite enough of dancing and small talk. They sat in contented silence as they were driven to the hotel where they would spend the night, her head resting on his shoulder. He was drawing circles on her palm with one finger.  
"Are you happy?"  
"Do I look it?" came the lazy, blissful response.  
"You look ravishing," he replied, and after she raised her head he pressed a kiss to her cheek, travelling down to her neck. His breath was warm in her ear, making her shiver as he whispered a sincere recitation;  
"_Where true Love burns, Desire is Love's pure flame;  
__It is the reflex of our earthly frame,  
__That takes it's meaning from the nobler part,  
__And but translates the language of the heart.'  
_Coleridge," he murmured against her parted lips.  
The carriage drew to a halt, and they drew apart with considerable reluctance.

"You know, that really is a very lovely dress," Henry remarked casually as he scooped his wife into his arms outside their hotel-room door.  
"Darling," she murmured, "perhaps, before you carry me over the threshold…"  
"Yes?"  
"…you might want to unlock the door."  
Henry's expression changed. "Oh."  
After fumbling with the key, he opened the door before taking his bride in his arms once more. "_This_ time…"  
Eliza nudged the door shut with her foot as they entered.

* * *

Henry had lost track of time, but judging by the moonlight streaming through the half-pulled drapes he supposed it must be about three o'clock in the morning. He gazed in awe at the sleeping figure next to him. For once, poetry failed him. No Keats, Coleridge, Byron or even Shakespeare could describe the wonder of it.

Snuggling down next to her, Henry pressed a kiss to Eliza's bare shoulder, and smiled to himself.  
_Bachelors are idiots._


	12. Loverly Ever After

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** _Well, this is it; the final chapter. I know I said after 'Shy' that I was going to stop before I took it too far, but this time I actually mean it...(haha). I feel that I've delivered Eliza & Henry to the ending that the play(s) denied them.  
Thank you so much for your support and kind comments._

**Chapter 12**

Outside the window, the night air was cold. It would probably snow later. But Eliza couldn't care less; she was curled up in an large armchair next to the fire with a book on her lap, occasionally reaching out to stoke the coals with a poker.

After several minutes, laughter and footsteps echoed down the hall, and a few moments later the door swung open. Henry Higgins entered, his hair ruffled and tie loose. He was laughing.  
"Oh Lord, I'm too old for hopscotch."  
"Try telling Mandy that," his wife grinned as he collapsed into the chair next to her, lying down to rest his head on her knee in cheerful exhaustion.  
"Where is she, anyway?" Eliza asked, reaching for the nearby chocolate box and biting one in half before popping the other half in his mouth.  
"I think she's gone to pester the staff into finding some mistletoe for the doorframes."  
"As if we need the excuse," the woman chuckled, smoothing down his ruffled hair and enjoying the way he smiled up at her with childlike adoration.  
"Well, _we_ might not, but I suspect Mandy might be trying to repeat last year's incident with Mrs. Pearce. Pickering wrote that he would be here by Christmas Eve," Henry grinned, chuckling at the memory of when the Colonel and Mrs. Pearce had found themselves under the mistletoe together quite by accident. Eliza laughed again, and he sighed contentedly; perfectly comfortable using her lap as a pillow, with a view of her lovely face.

Minutes passed in warm, comfortable silence. Warmth that was much less dependant on the coal fire than the man sitting beside her. Outside, snowflakes began to form, gathering on the windowsill.  
"Oh, I never want to move again. I could sit right here forever. Or until the winter's over, at least."  
"I don't suppose you really _have_ to move," Henry played along, "after all, you have chocolates and a fire and excellent reading material close at hand, and of course you have Mandy and I to take care of you."  
In response, she linked her hands with his, placing them on his chest. Henry heaved another contented sigh; then his brow furrowed a little.  
"Eliza, I just realized something."  
"What's that?" she asked somewhat absently, reaching for another chocolate.  
"On our wedding night, I asked you if being married was better than being a lady in a flower shop, and you told me to ask you again in two months…Well, I know I'm a little late, almost two years, but…well, how _are_ you finding married life, Eliza?"  
The young woman smiled mistily, thoughtfully, and cast her gaze around the room before it eventually settled back on her husband's expectant face. Eliza smiled.  
"It's…loverly."

**THE END**


End file.
